


The Heart of a King

by Inforapoundd



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Ivar spoken about only, saying goodbye, the loss of a friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inforapoundd/pseuds/Inforapoundd
Summary: Ivar the Boneless is dead and Alfred grapples with his feelings, speaking from the heart about a man who was his enemy.
Relationships: Alfred & Ivar (Vikings)
Kudos: 7





	The Heart of a King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [northbound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/northbound/gifts).



> There is an incredible fic called Little King written by northbound. This was partly inspired by that story as well as the final episode of the show.

I once believed that time could cure any pain of the heart. If enough seasons passed and prays were spoken alone, the sting would leave as you did today.

The birth of a child, the slow descent of snow, the thaw of Spring could make someone, almost anyone, forget. Except a king. You know this as a man with a mind like a steel trap. Even the simple memories of those moments we shared sit in my stomach like a snake. Still and cold but ready to taste the air if stirred.

Your image, who you are, were, who the world forced us to become hang like a peasant from the neck; guilty only of hunger. How much loss could one life swallow and you and I demand? How many things in this cruel world have the strength to break twice?

Like a smooth edge of a carved piece of wood, I squeeze your offering in my hand. It feels real there somehow, absolute, like a secret we share. Tucked away with the expectations of what it means to be a man; to be a foe. But I live those ideas. I am all things to all people. But the question remains and will all the rainy days of my life, who was I to you?

Nothing? An enemy?

Even on the opposite sides of the cross, I saw you as an equal. A bad habit in truth, one that I veiled and sat with. You would laugh but anything is true when thought of as a constant. What would it have been like to talk once more, as we had so long ago? I carry that wonder in my soul and the creases of my heart. And in this moment, as you lie on a ground that will never welcome you, I am humbled. Not by the force of glory and death but by your hope of being seen.

I see you.  
Some lines cannot be uncrossed and nothing is more tedious than the infinite sound of silence but one wisdom I know is that we are far more than the thoughts we have and the words we use. The second wisdom, I will keep to myself.

And like the fettered tie of the sun and moon, our paths track each other. With the cracks in this brutal landscape drawing marks between our sides. Not a soul would believe that you and I were placed upon the shores of my dreams without armour. Yet, the world is a complicated place, and in it, I am fragile, my heart unrelenting.

The truth to some is unfamiliar. My truth? The lines of your face will never fade. How could they? From dawn to black, as the sand calls home the tide and in the vastness of eternity, I will remember you. Just a boy, as I was just a boy, your hand placed on your chest. That was the instant you built a world that tethered our lives forever. I hear your voice even now and see the hopefulness in your bright eyes.

So, take this rest, my dearest adversary, for it only comes once.


End file.
